Old Flames
by BlueAcidRain
Summary: After fleeing from the victory dinner, and from having to watch Phoenix and Iris become reacquainted, Miles Edgeworth sits alone in his car wondering why he can't think of anywhere else to go.


So I'm aware that after the end of the T&T final case Iris probably would have been required to be held at the detention centre, but I had this little idea so for the sake of the story decided she's allowed out XD I also haven't played AAI: Miles Edgeworth yet, but I know he goes away again almost instantly after T&T so this is pretty much set on the evening of the trial end.  
Anyway, I'm not Capcom so I don't own these characters. Also thank you to Pantharya for being my ever wondeful Beta! Hope you enjoy it~

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Miles Edgeworth sat silently in his bright red car, head against the steering wheel, hands in his lap.

When he'd been invited to the victory dinner he'd known Iris would be there. Of course he had. He'd also known about the history between her and Wright. How could he possibly have forgotten? He supposed deep down he'd even known that it was wishful thinking to hope that nothing would happen between them.

What he hadn't known was how goddamn much it would hurt.

He propped his head up on his hands, looking sideways out of the car at the spread out flashes of light as late-night drivers made their way home on the once-packed main street. He'd parked down a side street of course, not wanting to take the chance that anybody might recognise him, or worse yet, become curious as to why he was sitting alone in his parked car late at night.

He wasn't sure why he'd had to stop, or how long he'd been here now. He didn't think it had been this dark when he'd first pulled over. All he really remembered was the need to get out, out of that damned restaurant, away from the giggles and the glances and the painful flirting. He'd gotten away fine, Jesus he'd even manage to smile at them, but then all he'd been able to think was 'drive'. Not home, he hadn't wanted home. But where did he have other than home?

He snorted, the sound loud and intrusive in the dark silence. Nowhere. The great and mighty Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, and he couldn't find anywhere more comforting to be than a darkened side street. God he was pathetic.

He'd thought about screaming at first, the need to express the pain almost overbearing, but he'd never been good at expressing anything much and had ended up simply sitting in more silence. He'd then wondered if this would have been the appropriate time to cry, but came to the conclusion that if he had time to think about it, it probably wasn't.

Time had passed and he'd thought about.. trying not to think about anything. Yet he still wasn't ready to go home. He glanced at his cellphone, which he'd turned off straight away. He suspected there would be several messages from Franziska, she'd always been good at reading him and he'd seen her concern when he'd left. She'd probably have tried calling his apartment too. He wondered, with some amount of affection, if she'd have dropped by the apartment to check if he was just ignoring her calls. The thought of that made him cringe in anticipation of the fury to be directed at him the next time they talked. She didn't like to be left in the dark.

But this time he didn't feel like sharing. He supposed that was why he hadn't wanted to go home. His home was filled with his furniture, his belongings and his memories, everywhere he looked he saw a reflection of himself. These feelings were ever so unpleasantly not him. He wasn't used to feeling so angry, so hurt and so betrayed. It had only started happening since Wright had appeared back in his life. Wright had brought back so much.. feeling. But the betrayal, that was new. A whole new feeling for Edgeworth to be utterly confused by.

The worst part was that the logical part of him, usually the so much more dominant part, was telling him it wasn't betrayal; betrayal required some sort of agreement to be broken. There was no agreement here, nothing that was stated or even so obvious it didn't need to be said. Even so the same thing kept ringing in his head, the same feeling over and over.

How could Wright do this to me?

He expected very little from his childhood friend, half of what came out of his mouth was ridiculous and the man could be downright dense sometimes. He'd tried hard to hate Wright for a while, had just shut him out completely to start with. But Wright had always had a way of showing up, of wriggling his way back into Miles' life and back into his thoughts. He would always turn up wearing that stupid blue suit and that goofy smile, clinging to the thinnest cases and always full of such _conviction_.

Miles had finally just run away from it, moved away from the country, and away from Wright. But when Larry had called, babbling about a bridge and a fire and a fall, all he'd had to do was mention Wright's name and Edgeworth had taken the first flight he could, running headfirst straight back into it all.

He still remembered the panic he'd felt when he'd seen Wright there in the hospital bed, feverish, pale and bruised. His whole body had seized up and he could have sworn his heart was struggling to keep beating.

Then Wright had opened his eyes and grinned his stupid goofy grin again, and Miles had cursed himself for falling back into those unnessecary feelings, while at the same time attempting to ignore the feeling of complete and utter relief.

He had tried to tell himself he couldn't understand why he'd step into the defence's shoes just because Wright asked him to, but of course the answer was clear. Wright asked him to.

Then he'd seen her, that porcelain-faced, black-haired girl, and he wished he'd never come back.

Iris.

Just the name made Edgeworth scowl. He'd thought at first his distaste for the woman had simply been due to the likeness between her and her murdering twin, but it had become apparent how wrong he'd been about that during her confession in the courtroom.

_'The feelings I'd developed...for you...Feenie'_

The testimony had made him feel sick. He'd hoped so hard that it was the past, that old feelings had been buried under the heavy history of lies and deceit. But one look at Wright and he'd known it wasn't so. The man had been flustered every time he'd been around her. His stuttering and flushed cheeks had been more than enough proof that he still had feelings for her. And to hear her say all that.. to find that she had feelings for him..

But Miles still hadn't been able to squash that tiny bit of hope.. That glimmer of a dream that Wright might just in fact be a bumbling fool, rather than a lovesick one.

And so that hope, that horrible, futile hope, had led him here; alone in his car, the sting of watching the two of them rekindle the past still prickling painfully under his skin.

Why did it have to be him? Miles had spent his career being strong, aiming only for the guilty verdict, doing whatever he could to just to win. And yet then there was Wright.. Phoenix goddamn Wright. The the only one to convince Miles that he was capable of such depth of emotion. That he could fall so deeply in..

He wasn't going to let himself finish that thought. Because he couldn't, he couldn't admit anything of the sort to himself. He couldn't love Wright, couldn't possibly have fallen so hard for that stupid, hopeful, goofy... beautiful idiot.

He slammed his head down hard on the steering wheel, desperately wishing he could jolt himself back into reasoning, that somehow he could dislodge the memories and the feelings from their stronghold in his mind. Wishing he could take everything Wright had over him back and mould his life back into its safe, stable form.

He shifted his head slightly on the wheel and felt a soft splash on his hand. He lifted his head and raised his hand slowly to eye level, frowning. As the tiny wet spot glistened in what little light reached down the street he raised his fingers to his cheeks and felt the warm wetness that continued to flow down them.

He looked back out the window, his sight blurry, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, let the warmth roll down his face.

Apparently, Miles Edgeworth thought to himself; alone in his dark empty car, now was the time to cry.


End file.
